295 Low tide on the causeway - part II (sleep safe with occasional herring gulls and oyster catchers)

A soundscene, of an island. Asleep. Between the tides. About this time last year we visited Burgh Island in Devon on the south west coast of England. We made two long-form overnight recordings while we were there. Burgh Island is reached on-foot from Bigbury-on-Sea via a sand causeway. The causeway completely disappears beneath the waves twice a day at high tide making the island accessible only via the magnificent sea tractor. This passage of time is from the recording the Lento box made in Bigbury-on-Sea, tied to a palm tree facing onto the beach and out towards the island. It's the dead of night. 1am to 2am. Weather conditions extremely mild. Wind speeds very light, 1 to 2 knots. Human activity virtually nil for tens of miles, in all directions, including the entire dome of the night sky.  The pristine quality of quiet open space in this area enables a crystal clear sound-view of the whole beach and the sea. It's quite a rare thing to witness especially here in the UK. No rumbles in the sky. Not a hint of an aeroplane, anywhere. As if air travel has never been invented. This must be how the world sounded a hundred years ago. The pure uninterrupted high definition sound of a gently shifting sea. Of the tide, so gradually coming in. Of an island, silently asleep, centre of scene.       * What makes this sound photograph so precious to us is the crystal clarity of the waves and the movement of the waves as they break upon the flat sands of the beach under a perfectly silent night sky. Herring gulls and oyster catchers are occasionally audible but their calls are relatively sparse and there are long empty gaps. If you are able to hear extremely delicate sound you may also hear some tiny mewing sounds to far left of scene. These are the sheep and lambs nocturnally grazing fields further along the coast.  ** You can listen to Part I of this same long-form recording in episode 265 midnight to 1am. 

The moment we entered Shelve Wood we knew it was a perfect place to record. Shropshire is sparsely populated. There's only one B road in the Shelve Wood area. The country lanes carry little traffic, and on the day we were on-location the skies were very often empty of aircraft. These qualities are highly valuable because they allow the delicate natural sound in the environment to reach your eardrums unaffected. Hearing the leaves of one city tree hushing in the wind is a nice thing to experience, but hearing thousands of trees all murmuring together across a huge reverberant natural space is an aural experience that brings nature connection on a completely different level. Shelve Wood is a forest of diverse flora and fauna with mixed fir and deciduous trees. The ecosystem extends over approximately five hundred acres. The ground beneath the trees is intensely absorbent to sound, layer upon layer of fallen pine needles and leaves that must have lain untrodden by the feet of anything larger than the smallest of woodland creatures for decades. It's the physical properties of the trees, their solid trunks, their branches and complex leaf systems that convert the energy of the wind into hearable sound, and over distance form resonant spaces that catch and amplify the calls of the birds. * We made this recording in May 2025. the Lento box recorded within this location alone and non-stop for twelve hours. This one hour segment captures the dawn chorus just after sunrise. At 20 minutes a blackbird sings high up in the tree holding the microphones. Ear-witnessing this at such closeness is only possible using microphones recording alone. Later in the segment a cuckoo enters the forest to mid-left of scene. Capturing the sound of a cuckoo is something that seems almost miraculous to us, although we have noticed over the six years we've been making recordings to share via Radio Lento that hearing cuckoos is not as unusual as we had previously thought. Nonetheless actually capturing the echoing calls of the cuckoo in a reverberant forest at close range and over a long period of time has never been something we have ever been able to achieve, until now. So we thank this cuckoo for singing so sonorously, and for helping us to mark six years of Lento. ** Thank you for listening and for all your support. Every time we tie the Lento box to a tree and press record we think of you the listener, and how through the Lento mics you can be transported through your ears into these richly detailed natural places. *** It's Lento's 6th birthday next weekend. Celebrate by buying us a birthday coffee? 

The Lento box records alone, tied to a tree, behind thickets of gorse. The night hours pass. The microphones capture the panoramic peace of this wild coastal landscape. Rye Harbour Nature Reserve on the East Sussex coast. The tree holding the mics overlooks one of the many small lakes across the reserve. In daytime these bodies of water mirror the sky, and provide different types of wildlife with a calmer place to be compared to the nearby sea.  This passage of time is somewhere between 3am and 4am. Nothing is visible in the thick darkness but the soundscape is spatially wide, empty for periods, between waves of delicately detailed nocturnal bird activity. Mid left of scene, about half a mile in the distance, you can easily hear the sea. High tide is several hours away. The lake is dead ahead, and for the first thirty minutes remains silent because there is hardly any wind. To right of scene the inland landscape is mostly quiet, except for a hum that's floating across the fields, from what we guess must be some distant industrial buildings.  Being mid-February the peaceful air does not last. A squally weather front moves in at 30 minutes. It brings persistent rain. Rain that sifts down in changing textures. Rain that sparkles as it lands on the still lake water. Unwitnessed moments in time captured perfectly by the microphones.

Exposed moorland trees create a strong natural source of undulating white noise when shouldering the brunt of a winter gale. The sounds they produce are uniquely enchanting  and an absolute delight to experience. For us it's the beating heart of what it is to be immersed in the great outdoors, and one of the reasons we set Radio Lento up in the first place. To capture and share the aural essences of the great outdoors for anyone (including ourselves) who want to experience but can't always get out to feel time passing in a real natural place.  The sound-scene in this recording is entirely produced by trees in wind although at the very start there are a couple of tawny owls. Using headphones you will perceive the scene in its full panoramic width and depth. From far right of scene a line of trees (mixed fir and bare branched deciduous) grow along a ridge that descends into a meadow whose upper boundary aligns with the centre of the scene. From the centre the open meadow then slopes away and down the moor mid-left of scene. Far left of scene another ridge with higher elevation is visible to the ears, more thickly wooded, and despite being much further away generates deep brown turbulences as the wind grows in strength. As time passes the interaction of the ever-changing banks of wind blowing through the arrangements of trees builds and builds, creating a kind of vision of the place all-be-it entirely perceived through spatial hearing. It was well after eleven at night at the very end of December when we headed out to find a place to leave the Lento box to record. The weather conditions were fresh and extremely dry. Not a hint of moisture or damp anywhere. The whole landscape was in the grip of a powerful winter gale. A Derbyshire gale, a thousand feet above sea level. Every twig and every fallen leaf was audible, sifting and shifting in the brisk turbulent air. As we descended below the treelined ridge we felt the depth of the sound being produced by the trees. Not quite a roar, more like a soft low rumble, sensed less through the ears than through the body. We found a tall fence post, and then left the box to record the gale as it blew through the whole night.  * We made this recording in High Peak Derbyshire, December 2023 a couple of days before the year turned. This passage of time is from around 5am, just before the cockerel starts crowing in the nearby farm! The weather conditions were incredibly fresh and dry which is why the trees sound so clear and defined.

The waves settle into wavelets. The wavelets settle to calm. Then it's just the pure sound of estuary emptiness, at night. Following on from episode 288 it's several hours later, about 4 in the morning, and the tide has finally turned along the exposed seawall opposite Wallasea Island. The soundscape captured conveys the aural essences of this beautifully exposed and empty place. Near-scene the movements of tidal water. Mid-scene the occasional calls of hardy sea birds flying low through the night air. To right of scene the distant low hum of a bulk carrier ship, recently arrived, waiting in port to be unloaded. The night before we'd scouted the area and tied the mics to a railing well above the high water mark. However due to a combination of tidal surge and a spring tide, the section of railing only just remained dry. Luckily the Lento box survived to capture a uniquely fascinating sound. The intricate and changing movements of estuary water, close-up, against a backdrop of pristine estuary quiet. * We made this recording in August 2021, after discovering the River Crouch and the estuary landscape around Wallasea Island. The weather conditions were unseasonably rainy and windy at the time which has made these rain-free sections of the 12 hour overnight recording seem even more special.

We love the ambience of Sant Llorence de la Muga, a small village high in the Pyrenees. It's a beautifully peaceful place but we know the sound of the bells every quarter are not ideal for those wanting to spend time with the rain, the open peacefulness of mountainous quiet, and the occasional beeps of what we think are nocturnal frogs. So, this passage of time is from episode 281, adjusted.  With the chimes carefully spliced out, this piece of captured quiet runs from just before 3am to just after 4am. Heavy rain begins to fall and the sky grumbles with thunder. The rain then eases off allowing you to hear beyond the distant white noise of the nearby shallow river and deeper into the night landscape. You may hear to the right of scene one and sometimes more tiny beeps from time to time. We think these are frogs. The sounds are both soft and yet very distinguishable in the soundscape. And comforting too, for some curious reason. 

Welcome back to Radio Lento and a new year of captured quiet from natural places. It's so good you are here. To open 2026 we're heading back to rural Shropshire which we visited last year thanks to a listener recommendation. We found so many perfect places on this trip in May. Remember almost every Lento soundscape is made when there's nobody about, not even us. What you hear is a fully authentic passage of time recorded in high definition spatial sound, ideal for headphone or Airpod listening. Each recording is captured using a one-shot true-timeline method and through the same device, the Lento box, which we also call our sound camera. Our aim is to capture long-form sound images that let you engage as directly as possible with the landscape, so it speaks for itself, without us or anybody else to get in the way. And wildlife does sound better when there are no people about. The exact location of the Lento box on this recording is Poles Coppice, a nature reserve surrounded by farmland and grassy moors. We gave it #LentoApproved status. It's spring. Weather conditions are fair. Wind very light, just 2 to 3 knots, with occasional gusts of 10 to 15 knots. Wind gusts can often be heard sweeping through the oak trees, from left to right of scene. When this happens you really get a sense of the physical space around you (especially if you are listening on headphones or Airpods). * This passage of time begins with the last few fragile moments of night quiet. Then the very first bird of the new day begins to sing. Gradually, as time passes and the sky grows in luminosity, more birds start to sing. After about 15 minutes the dawn chorus is underway. It continues over the full 75 minutes of this episode segment, shifting and changing in pace and intensity. It's subtle and interesting how the changes blend into one another, and happen almost like movements of a symphony, though we aren't that keen on imposing human ideas onto the patterns of nature. We can't talk to birds and ask them what they are singing and why, but we can apply our human ability to bear witness to this amazing phenomenon without interfering or disturbing it.

Tied to a railing, the Lento box records alone. It's about two in the morning along the river bank east of Burnham-on-Crouch in Essex. Wind is blowing inland from the east, light, gusting to moderate. Sky dark, and heavy with cloud. Huge rainclouds are approaching, currently located out over the North Sea. When they arrive this whole area will be subjected to long periods of persistent, often squally rain, lasting well into the next day. For now though the Lento box is dry. Its microphones capturing just the sound of the incoming tide as it steadily advances up the seawall. Angled directly towards Wallasea Island, the expanse of estuary water between the seawall and the opposite bank of the River Crouch can be heard as a wide and spatial backdrop. Throughout this 30 minute passage of nocturnal time, the way the water plays along the seawall constantly develops and evolves. Sometimes individual waves form into resonant airpockets, producing fleetingly melodic notes. Wave energies surge and dissipate, surge and dissipate, edging closer and closer to the microphones on the rising tide. What's consistent is the timbre of the water as it washes over the rippled ridges of the seawall. To us silvery. Each individual wave captured in sharp spatial detail that you can experience in full using headphones or AirPods. At twenty three minutes an aircraft approaches from the east and passes over Wallasea Island. From left to right of scene. Reveals across the empty void of the sky how human activity can still be heard over this otherwise wild and empty landscape. * This sound photograph of the tidal River Crouch comes from a twelve hour non-stop overnight recording we made back in August 2021. For more sections of time from this same location please browse the Lento archive.

The still luminous sky above the sheer rock cliffs was turning an even deeper shade of blue, as we stepped down onto the wet sand of the beach at Boggle Hole. For a moment we just had to stand. Take it all in. Wide stretches of undulating sand. Half submerged boulders like sleeping elephants. Towering rock faces so vertical and so angled that they catch and reflect every breaking wave, every calling bird, every clack of a dislodged stone, back into your ears, so you hear them for a second time. The tide's been receding for several hours. We turn right, and walk to find a good spot to record. We follow the band of newly exposed sand along the tidal zone, dodging pools of stranded water. See sea birds swooping, then landing, momentarily. Snatch up a morsel. Then they're up and flying again. Herring gulls circle high overhead. Black headed gulls pass like projectiles, screeching for the empty air in front of them to get out of the way. Their bold cries caught, and reflected, by the plummeting cliffs of sheer vertical rock. This we know, we hear, we see, we feel, is a rarified place. A landscape of exceptional quality. It doesn't matter how many hundreds of miles we have to go to find places like this, it's always worth it. Environments where extreme quiet and extreme spatialness coexist, together, for hours. Undisturbed. Uninterrupted. Unspoiled. We found a spot, then left the Lento box on a tripod to record the scene alone, in the gathering dark. * We made this recording, or more accurately we took this sound photograph of Boggle Hole beach one evening last August whilst staying at the Youth Hostel. It's one of the most spatial sound captures we've made this year. Listen with headphones in a quiet place, and let yourself settle into the passage of time, to let your ears adjust and get the full spatial effect.

Capturing the sound-feel of real night quiet is special. It requires a lot of time and a location where quiet naturally occurs in more than just a fleeting way. Quiet is not silence. Silence is the absence of sound, whereas quiet happens when everything in the landscape is still audible. Just softer, and slower. Night brings quiet to natural and edgeland places. It enables us to better hear an environment's true spatialness and blend of sound signatures. By tying the Lento box to a tree looking down over the Warren on the Kent coast and exposing the microphones for over 50 hours non-stop, long periods of naturally occurring quiet were captured that serve as a true impression of this place. In this 90-minute passage of time taken from the dead of night on the second day of the recording, the sea can be heard distantly crashing onto the beach at the foot of the Warren. It surges and retreats, in slow unfurling rhythms. Close to the microphones, in the leaf litter around the tree, crickets call to each other in regular patterns, like naturally occurring clocks. Banks of wind blow in from time to time, gently ruffling leaves from left to right of scene. Sounds of indistinct origin sometimes echo across the valley, revealing the true width and depth of the space and far cries of seagulls, high flying in the vastness of the night sky.   Of course this is England, and only a short distance from France. The headlights of French cars are sometimes visible from this very point. The Strait of Dover is one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world, and a flight path runs directly over this area. Despite these mechanisms of human life, the planes that do overfly during this passage of time are quite gentle in the way they traverse the sky. It is the night quiet, and the sea, and the crickets that speak for themselves, and mean we just have to share this recording so everyone can be a sound-witness to the quiet of this place. * We made this recording back in August 2024. We didn't actually intend to leave the Lento box out recording for so long (into a third day) but we're glad we did.